Thanks. I am glad you are enjoying it. Though this would have been a fairly unremarkable trip in most other cars, driving it in the VW that I built almost 10 years ago made it an adventure. The west is most unfamiliar to me. Its beautiful but overwhelming at times since I've lived most of my life in the tame middle of the country.
Wisconsin to California and back in a 40hp 1966 VW Beetle
- Thread starter slowlane
- Start date
Thanks. I am glad you are enjoying it. Though this would have been a fairly unremarkable trip in most other cars, driving it in the VW that I built almost 10 years ago made it an adventure. The west is most unfamiliar to me. Its beautiful but overwhelming at times since I've lived most of my life in the tame middle of the country.
AbleGuy
Officious Intermeddler
Great pics, ugly car ?. Good story telling.
You have a knack for interesting, descriptive writing...I sincerely hope you continue to foster it and find outlets like this for sharing it.
Seriously, you sound young enough to have many good years ahead of you for enjoying simple adventures and for journaling them. Don’t let this increasingly uncommon skill of yours fall by the wayside as you meander through life.
You have a knack for interesting, descriptive writing...I sincerely hope you continue to foster it and find outlets like this for sharing it.
Seriously, you sound young enough to have many good years ahead of you for enjoying simple adventures and for journaling them. Don’t let this increasingly uncommon skill of yours fall by the wayside as you meander through life.
Dances with Wolves
aka jk240sx
Cool pics of Duchesne & Dinosaur. I live in Roosevelt so you drove through. Yer pic on top of 191 is the peak of Indian Canyon.
Thank you. Your kind words mean a lot to me. I am fairly young, having just turned 35, and writing all this has reinvigorated my enthusiasm for it. I don't have quite the wanderlust that I did several years ago, and have mostly stuck to the Midwest recently. I love my ugly bug. The car surely had a rough life, and it's sort of beat-up state conceals its solid reliability.
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Yeah that area was pretty and 191 through Indian Canyon was a real high point in the trip.
9-12-19
I wake up really early today, before 5:00 AM, excited that I will be at my destination in California this evening, and a little nervous since the longest and most desolate day of travel is beginning. In my road atlas, US-50 bares the ominous sounding label "Loneliest Road" along the stretch from Ely to Fallon, Nevada. There are a couple sections of a hundred or so miles where there is nothing save for dry sagebrush, dust and sun. The only sign of human habitation in many places is the road on which you are travelling and the odd discarded can or shredded tire tread along its shoulder.
With some trepidation I point the VW west on US-50 and accelerate off into the pre-dawn blackness. In the rear view mirror, the lights of Delta and Hinckley, Utah shrink into an ever smaller twinkling mass, while ahead is an indeterminate vastness shrouded behind the cover of darkness. There is no moon out this morning and the impressive star display above me does little to illuminate the nothing stretching out in all directions. The VW's headlights cast a thin swath of dim yellow glow into the emptiness. Though slightly uneasy, I leave the radio off and remain content with the unwavering air-cooled drone behind me, strangely determined to savor this eeriness. Suddenly a jolt of movement in the road ahead startles me, and I swerve left into the other lane to avoid a rabbit.
Far ahead there is a tiny flickering light, looking almost like a distant campfire. The light disappears and reappears periodically as I continue in its general direction. For over a quarter of an hour this strange phenomenon continues unabated as I become more curious as to its source. On its next reappearance, I think I can just make out what looks to be two separate lights close together. Eventually there is a distinct pair of headlights coming toward me and soon a truck speeds past in the opposite direction. This nearly half-hour long apparition was nothing more than another vehicle traversing the same immense space as I am.
A dull silvery glow begins to grow along the eastern horizon, and I can just begin to make out the faint outlines of the distant mountains flanking the dead straight strip of pavement on which I travel. The roadway here has been freshly resurfaced, and as the light gradually increases, it cuts across the desert like a single ink line drawn on a massive sheet of grey paper. That line is now pointed at a rocky expanse of mountains where the VW and I are again climbing up, over and down. Now able to see the emptiness of the surrounding terrain, I find myself drawn to the little green mileage markers counting down the distance to Nevada, where I know from a previous trip there is a gas station right on the Utah/Nevada border. By about mile marker 20 my mind eases, as I am fairly confident I could reach the gas station on foot with my backpack and two gallon jugs of water should the VW's engine suddenly catastrophically explode.
But nothing happens as the VW pulls over the last hill and down into the valley where I can see the station ahead. There is a sign that states, "Services Ahead 12 Miles" or some similar distance. The visual compression of huge spaces is something that I have not become accustomed to out west. The gas station and the mountains beyond for that matter seem so close in the dry, clear air. But no matter how near that gas station looks, it still takes the full fifteen minutes it mathematically should have to reach it.
After another sixty or so miles I reach Ely, Nevada, the beginning of "The Loneliest Road in America." I have to take issue with that claim. This stretch is definitely remote for a US highway, and with a 109 mile gap between Austin and Fallon, it is no joke. But it is far from lonely, as there are plenty of RV's, semis, expedition style rigs, farm trucks, and regular cars which pass by frequently enough to question the title. I am sure the application of "Loneliest Road" has something to do with it, as the name draws people longing to get off the beaten path together onto this road for a not-so-lonely trek across this pretty but desolate area. It is a really fascinating stretch of the country in any case.
The VW and I continue westward with the usual struggles over pass after pass. I have heard that Nevada has the most mountain ranges of any state in the US and after half a day of long third gear pulls up and over the plenty of named summits on US-50, I am inclined to believe it. Relieved, I cross the half-way point between Austin and Fallon, and later stop in Fallon for gas and a late lunch consisting of a bag of Lays potato chips with a Dr.Pepper.
At the gas station in Fallon my credit card, which also didn't work in Austin, refuses to be accepted. In Austin, I chalked it up to the tiny little two-pump station I was filling up at where another customer was also having trouble with their card. Now though this was a huge travel plaza that should have working readers. I hesitate to use my debit card because I got scammed by a gas pump skimmer in Nebraska several years before. But I run it through the pump as a credit card and all is well, it goes through. Now nervous that my bank may think my cards are stolen and is in the process of cutting them off, I head to Walmart and buy two 98 cent jugs of water with $100 cash back on each. This futile gesture somehow placates my anxious mind even though I know darn well that the cash I have on me wouldn't even cover gas back to Wisconsin.
I continue on to Carson City, NV where it is peak rush hour. After traveling this country's highway system a number of times to a variety of places, I have come to the conclusion that it was designed to always plop you down in the middle of a large city at rush hour no matter where you go. I still remember being stuck on I-20 in Atlanta, Georgia; eight lanes wide but reduced to a parking lot with no end in sight.
Once out of Carson City, I leave US-50 for State Highway 88 which crosses into California and runs south along the base of the Sierra Nevada. The Sierra is striking to me because of the abrupt transition in the landscape. This range is nearly solid grey rock covered in dark evergreens, while looking to the east, the tan dusty mountain ranges stretch back for two states. The road rises into the mountains and the VW grinds its way slowly up. I turn right onto State Road 89 toward Luther Pass. Along this road, I stop to relax and take a few photos at a large turn-out on the way down. The air is clear, cool and dry, with just a light breeze; perfect. Below, tall pine trees frame a gold grassy meadow scattered with grey rocks and boulders of various sizes, while all around, cliffs and tree lined slopes surround me.
Highway 89 rejoins US-50 which I follow, thrown in with the craziness that is California driving. I always thought Californians are supposed to be all laid-back and chilled-out but driving here is sheer insanity. Obviously the VW doesn't have a prayer on the up-hills, but even going down the winding sections at almost 10 over, I'm being passed by freaking contractor vans with loaded down ladder racks. In Placerville, I take Highway 49 which is a really fun twisty road going up, down, and around toward the American River.
I stop in the town of Cool to get gas and have difficulty with the pump gun. The VW has a roughly 2-3" diameter filler tube in the gas tank and I normally only put the very end of the nozzle in so I can watch the fuel fill up. I don't want to fill too far because the little rubber sock on top of the fuel gauge sending unit doesn't seal the best and the interior smells of gasoline for the next couple hours if its too full. So I stand there pulling the pump trigger over and over looking stupid while nothing happens. The end of the nozzle has this big rubber accordion looking boot on it and suddenly it hits me. I push the nozzle all the way in the tank to mash that boot and the fuel starts flowing. I lift the pump gun back up and hold the rubber boot up with my left hand so I can see how full the tank is getting like normal. Ahh, California!
Highway 49 twists down to where it crosses the American River after which I turn right on Old Foresthill Road and twist back up the other side of the river valley. The sun is getting low on the horizon as I enter Foresthill, California after just over 600 miles of driving today. My friend Nick arrives in his hopped-up Porsche 914 about 15 minutes later. We have dinner and a beer at a place on the main street then head to the house they rented for the groomsmen, where we hang out for a while before I finally crash on the couch around midnight.
Early morning on US-50, Utah.
US-50, Nevada.
How it looks while driving a VW through the Nevada desert.
The VW in the Sierra Nevada, California.
Sierra Nevada, California.
Overlooking the American River from Old Foresthill Road, California.
The view from the wedding site. This was from when I walked out there in the early morning. The wedding was late afternoon so the sun was from the opposite angle and you could see all the way to the high Sierras in the distance.
I wake up really early today, before 5:00 AM, excited that I will be at my destination in California this evening, and a little nervous since the longest and most desolate day of travel is beginning. In my road atlas, US-50 bares the ominous sounding label "Loneliest Road" along the stretch from Ely to Fallon, Nevada. There are a couple sections of a hundred or so miles where there is nothing save for dry sagebrush, dust and sun. The only sign of human habitation in many places is the road on which you are travelling and the odd discarded can or shredded tire tread along its shoulder.
With some trepidation I point the VW west on US-50 and accelerate off into the pre-dawn blackness. In the rear view mirror, the lights of Delta and Hinckley, Utah shrink into an ever smaller twinkling mass, while ahead is an indeterminate vastness shrouded behind the cover of darkness. There is no moon out this morning and the impressive star display above me does little to illuminate the nothing stretching out in all directions. The VW's headlights cast a thin swath of dim yellow glow into the emptiness. Though slightly uneasy, I leave the radio off and remain content with the unwavering air-cooled drone behind me, strangely determined to savor this eeriness. Suddenly a jolt of movement in the road ahead startles me, and I swerve left into the other lane to avoid a rabbit.
Far ahead there is a tiny flickering light, looking almost like a distant campfire. The light disappears and reappears periodically as I continue in its general direction. For over a quarter of an hour this strange phenomenon continues unabated as I become more curious as to its source. On its next reappearance, I think I can just make out what looks to be two separate lights close together. Eventually there is a distinct pair of headlights coming toward me and soon a truck speeds past in the opposite direction. This nearly half-hour long apparition was nothing more than another vehicle traversing the same immense space as I am.
A dull silvery glow begins to grow along the eastern horizon, and I can just begin to make out the faint outlines of the distant mountains flanking the dead straight strip of pavement on which I travel. The roadway here has been freshly resurfaced, and as the light gradually increases, it cuts across the desert like a single ink line drawn on a massive sheet of grey paper. That line is now pointed at a rocky expanse of mountains where the VW and I are again climbing up, over and down. Now able to see the emptiness of the surrounding terrain, I find myself drawn to the little green mileage markers counting down the distance to Nevada, where I know from a previous trip there is a gas station right on the Utah/Nevada border. By about mile marker 20 my mind eases, as I am fairly confident I could reach the gas station on foot with my backpack and two gallon jugs of water should the VW's engine suddenly catastrophically explode.
But nothing happens as the VW pulls over the last hill and down into the valley where I can see the station ahead. There is a sign that states, "Services Ahead 12 Miles" or some similar distance. The visual compression of huge spaces is something that I have not become accustomed to out west. The gas station and the mountains beyond for that matter seem so close in the dry, clear air. But no matter how near that gas station looks, it still takes the full fifteen minutes it mathematically should have to reach it.
After another sixty or so miles I reach Ely, Nevada, the beginning of "The Loneliest Road in America." I have to take issue with that claim. This stretch is definitely remote for a US highway, and with a 109 mile gap between Austin and Fallon, it is no joke. But it is far from lonely, as there are plenty of RV's, semis, expedition style rigs, farm trucks, and regular cars which pass by frequently enough to question the title. I am sure the application of "Loneliest Road" has something to do with it, as the name draws people longing to get off the beaten path together onto this road for a not-so-lonely trek across this pretty but desolate area. It is a really fascinating stretch of the country in any case.
The VW and I continue westward with the usual struggles over pass after pass. I have heard that Nevada has the most mountain ranges of any state in the US and after half a day of long third gear pulls up and over the plenty of named summits on US-50, I am inclined to believe it. Relieved, I cross the half-way point between Austin and Fallon, and later stop in Fallon for gas and a late lunch consisting of a bag of Lays potato chips with a Dr.Pepper.
At the gas station in Fallon my credit card, which also didn't work in Austin, refuses to be accepted. In Austin, I chalked it up to the tiny little two-pump station I was filling up at where another customer was also having trouble with their card. Now though this was a huge travel plaza that should have working readers. I hesitate to use my debit card because I got scammed by a gas pump skimmer in Nebraska several years before. But I run it through the pump as a credit card and all is well, it goes through. Now nervous that my bank may think my cards are stolen and is in the process of cutting them off, I head to Walmart and buy two 98 cent jugs of water with $100 cash back on each. This futile gesture somehow placates my anxious mind even though I know darn well that the cash I have on me wouldn't even cover gas back to Wisconsin.
I continue on to Carson City, NV where it is peak rush hour. After traveling this country's highway system a number of times to a variety of places, I have come to the conclusion that it was designed to always plop you down in the middle of a large city at rush hour no matter where you go. I still remember being stuck on I-20 in Atlanta, Georgia; eight lanes wide but reduced to a parking lot with no end in sight.
Once out of Carson City, I leave US-50 for State Highway 88 which crosses into California and runs south along the base of the Sierra Nevada. The Sierra is striking to me because of the abrupt transition in the landscape. This range is nearly solid grey rock covered in dark evergreens, while looking to the east, the tan dusty mountain ranges stretch back for two states. The road rises into the mountains and the VW grinds its way slowly up. I turn right onto State Road 89 toward Luther Pass. Along this road, I stop to relax and take a few photos at a large turn-out on the way down. The air is clear, cool and dry, with just a light breeze; perfect. Below, tall pine trees frame a gold grassy meadow scattered with grey rocks and boulders of various sizes, while all around, cliffs and tree lined slopes surround me.
Highway 89 rejoins US-50 which I follow, thrown in with the craziness that is California driving. I always thought Californians are supposed to be all laid-back and chilled-out but driving here is sheer insanity. Obviously the VW doesn't have a prayer on the up-hills, but even going down the winding sections at almost 10 over, I'm being passed by freaking contractor vans with loaded down ladder racks. In Placerville, I take Highway 49 which is a really fun twisty road going up, down, and around toward the American River.
I stop in the town of Cool to get gas and have difficulty with the pump gun. The VW has a roughly 2-3" diameter filler tube in the gas tank and I normally only put the very end of the nozzle in so I can watch the fuel fill up. I don't want to fill too far because the little rubber sock on top of the fuel gauge sending unit doesn't seal the best and the interior smells of gasoline for the next couple hours if its too full. So I stand there pulling the pump trigger over and over looking stupid while nothing happens. The end of the nozzle has this big rubber accordion looking boot on it and suddenly it hits me. I push the nozzle all the way in the tank to mash that boot and the fuel starts flowing. I lift the pump gun back up and hold the rubber boot up with my left hand so I can see how full the tank is getting like normal. Ahh, California!
Highway 49 twists down to where it crosses the American River after which I turn right on Old Foresthill Road and twist back up the other side of the river valley. The sun is getting low on the horizon as I enter Foresthill, California after just over 600 miles of driving today. My friend Nick arrives in his hopped-up Porsche 914 about 15 minutes later. We have dinner and a beer at a place on the main street then head to the house they rented for the groomsmen, where we hang out for a while before I finally crash on the couch around midnight.
Early morning on US-50, Utah.
US-50, Nevada.
How it looks while driving a VW through the Nevada desert.
The VW in the Sierra Nevada, California.
Sierra Nevada, California.
Overlooking the American River from Old Foresthill Road, California.
The view from the wedding site. This was from when I walked out there in the early morning. The wedding was late afternoon so the sun was from the opposite angle and you could see all the way to the high Sierras in the distance.
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shortbus4x4
Expedition Leader
Awesome pictures.
Thank you.
9-15-19
Well the wedding is over and after three nights of staying up way too late, two days of catching up with a couple of people I haven't seen for six years, and meeting a few new ones, it is time to say goodbye to California. It was good to see Nick again, and even though we hadn't been the best at keeping up with each other for quite a while, once there, it was like we had just hung out the day before. Even though I stayed up later than I had planned on the night before, I still wake up early for my longest day of driving. Now I will be losing an hour going back to Mountain Time. I also want to adjust the valves in the VW's engine before heading out, so I push the car under a street light to see better and get to work.
For those unfamiliar with the air-cooled VW engine, valve adjustments should be performed with the engine completely cold every 3000 miles, though I have found that usually only one or two valves actually need adjusting. The procedure is really simple; you pop loose the wire bale holding the valve cover against the head and remove the cover. Then move the cylinder whose valves are to be adjusted to top dead center by rotating the generator pully, which in turn spins the crank. After that, you stick the appropriate feeler gauge between each valve stem and rocker arm screw (in my engine's case it's .006") and feel for a slight drag while sliding the gauge through the gap. If it's too tight or loose, you loosen the lock nut, turn the flathead adjusting screw in or out as necessary to achieve the correct tolerance, and retighten the nut. Continue on through the remaining three pairs of valves, reinstall the valve covers, and you're done! About every three or so adjustments, you replace the cork valve cover gaskets, which at my local Napa cost a whopping 98 cents each.
Valve adjustment finished, I fire up the engine and start off on the 2200 mile journey back to Wisconsin as the eastern sky is beginning to lighten. Feeling a somewhat more confident after a couple of days on the winding mountain roads, I push the VW a little harder than before while navigating the twists. The car heaves to one side and then the other as the weight transfers through the corners. The 4" tire contact patches and Sharpie marker-thin sway bar get a workout while the VW and I zip our way through the mountains between Foresthill and Placerville. I also want to change to oil before leaving California and in Placerville, I find an out of the way spot to do so.
Across from a gas station is a realty office with some bushes obscuring the view of the last few parking spots, and being early Sunday morning, nobody is there. I pull into the last spot and get out my tools, funnel, and the three quarts of new oil I have brought along under the rear seat. I cut the top off of one of my used gallon water jugs, slide it under the engine and pull the drain plug. Done draining, I reinstall the plug, pour in the 2.75 quarts of oil to refill it, and add the remainder of the last quart to my top-off oil bottle nestled with the spare tire in the trunk up front. Then I funnel the used oil into the now empty oil bottles, put them back under the seat to recycle at an auto parts store somewhere, and head across the street to the gas station to wash up and fill the fuel tank. This is the most expensive gas of the trip at $4.35 per gallon.
Feeling accomplished, I resume my easterly way into the bright morning sunrise. I cross the Sierra Nevada again into the flat plain that I follow into Utah and then to Carson City. It always seems that time during a return trip on the same route seems to progress faster. The anticipation is largely gone, things have been seen, and I have formed mental images of the landmarks to come ahead. I see something and remember, "oh yeah now I'm close to this town or that highway junction where I need to turn to get to there." The landscape is still largely new and fascinating, but the excitement of discovery is somewhat diminished when seeing it for the second time.
In Eureka, Nevada while checking the engine's oil level, I look under the car to discover an unpleasant situation. The right rear brake drum has a drip hanging from the bottom of it, being fed by a trail of gear lube coming out of the weep hole in the backing plate. The axle seal is leaking again. I have been trying to solve this problem for about a month now and thought I had it licked before leaving on the trip. Last year I was replacing the bearing on that axle, and in the process dropped the spacer that serves as the sealing surface for the seal in the bearing retainer plate. Naturally the spacer hit the ground in such a way to put a ding in the face right where the seal rides. I filed the high spot of the ding off, put it back together and forgot about it.
That is until in the process of installing new tires for this trip, I found the entire inside of the wheel was all grimy with a mixture of gear lube and a years worth of dirt. I pulled it back apart, filed every ding completely out of the face of the spacer, sanded and polished it, and reassembled the pieces with new seals, fairly confident that this time it would hold. And hold it seemed to do for the week leading up to this trip. But now here it is again, leaking. I know that in the process of removing the dings by filing, I created low spots in what was originally a perfectly round machined part. It was a gamble that was looking to pay off, but I ordered a new spacer just in case, which ironically arrived at the house in the afternoon of the day I left.
I am sure the now misshapen spacer is the culprit but out here, there is nothing I can do about it, save for picking up a bottle of gear lube and continuing to top off the transaxle. I wipe off what I can of the dripping gear lube so I can look under there again later on and try to gauge how fast it is losing fluid. I continue on, a little nervous not knowing how severe the leak really is or how much worse it may get, though it doesn't seem too serious for now.
Back on the road, I pass a green split window VW bus parked the at the top of Pancake Summit, and we wave to each other as I pass in the opposite direction. I look in the rearview mirror and the bus's hood is down so it looks like they are probably just resting or taking in the view from the top, and not suffering a mechanical breakdown. Normally I would have stopped to exchange stories or at least chat for a bit, but I'm in a slightly sour mood after finding the leaky axle with 2000 miles between me and home, so I am not up for socializing now.
I drive by a Napa in Ely, Nevada and am surprised to see an illuminated OPEN sign at 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon. I whip a U-turn and park, hoping that they really are open and someone didn't just forget to turn off the sign when leaving. Turns out they are open for another hour yet, and I am relieved to buy a quart of 80-90 gear lube for topping off the transaxle tomorrow morning. Before leaving the parking lot, I check the wheel, brake drum, and backing plate to find only a light oily film and a small seep from the weep hole. Excellent! It's not too bad. Man, what a relief! Spirits restored, I make my way out of Ely to cross the no-mans-land that stands between me and my stopping point in Delta, Utah.
Out in the desert, thick bands of clouds stretch across the sky, and the angle of the light from the early evening sun creates golden highlights along the edges of their dark masses in a marvelous overhead display. The temperature is perfect, just warm enough to drive with the side windows down and the vent and rear pop-out windows open for a breezy but not blustery ride. The ever present west wind, finally to my advantage for a change, has aided in propelling the pokey VW up and over the passes today with much improved performance. I stop to take some pictures of the amazing sky as the sun is starting to slip behind the distant hills. As the sun sets and the sky darkens, I put the camera away and finish off the last straight and level miles to Delta.
Nowhere, Nevada.
Overlooking Austin, Nevada from US-50
Evening in the Utah desert.
VW at sunset, Utah. I think this is my new favorite picture of the car.
West of Delta, Utah.
Last light in Utah.
Well the wedding is over and after three nights of staying up way too late, two days of catching up with a couple of people I haven't seen for six years, and meeting a few new ones, it is time to say goodbye to California. It was good to see Nick again, and even though we hadn't been the best at keeping up with each other for quite a while, once there, it was like we had just hung out the day before. Even though I stayed up later than I had planned on the night before, I still wake up early for my longest day of driving. Now I will be losing an hour going back to Mountain Time. I also want to adjust the valves in the VW's engine before heading out, so I push the car under a street light to see better and get to work.
For those unfamiliar with the air-cooled VW engine, valve adjustments should be performed with the engine completely cold every 3000 miles, though I have found that usually only one or two valves actually need adjusting. The procedure is really simple; you pop loose the wire bale holding the valve cover against the head and remove the cover. Then move the cylinder whose valves are to be adjusted to top dead center by rotating the generator pully, which in turn spins the crank. After that, you stick the appropriate feeler gauge between each valve stem and rocker arm screw (in my engine's case it's .006") and feel for a slight drag while sliding the gauge through the gap. If it's too tight or loose, you loosen the lock nut, turn the flathead adjusting screw in or out as necessary to achieve the correct tolerance, and retighten the nut. Continue on through the remaining three pairs of valves, reinstall the valve covers, and you're done! About every three or so adjustments, you replace the cork valve cover gaskets, which at my local Napa cost a whopping 98 cents each.
Valve adjustment finished, I fire up the engine and start off on the 2200 mile journey back to Wisconsin as the eastern sky is beginning to lighten. Feeling a somewhat more confident after a couple of days on the winding mountain roads, I push the VW a little harder than before while navigating the twists. The car heaves to one side and then the other as the weight transfers through the corners. The 4" tire contact patches and Sharpie marker-thin sway bar get a workout while the VW and I zip our way through the mountains between Foresthill and Placerville. I also want to change to oil before leaving California and in Placerville, I find an out of the way spot to do so.
Across from a gas station is a realty office with some bushes obscuring the view of the last few parking spots, and being early Sunday morning, nobody is there. I pull into the last spot and get out my tools, funnel, and the three quarts of new oil I have brought along under the rear seat. I cut the top off of one of my used gallon water jugs, slide it under the engine and pull the drain plug. Done draining, I reinstall the plug, pour in the 2.75 quarts of oil to refill it, and add the remainder of the last quart to my top-off oil bottle nestled with the spare tire in the trunk up front. Then I funnel the used oil into the now empty oil bottles, put them back under the seat to recycle at an auto parts store somewhere, and head across the street to the gas station to wash up and fill the fuel tank. This is the most expensive gas of the trip at $4.35 per gallon.
Feeling accomplished, I resume my easterly way into the bright morning sunrise. I cross the Sierra Nevada again into the flat plain that I follow into Utah and then to Carson City. It always seems that time during a return trip on the same route seems to progress faster. The anticipation is largely gone, things have been seen, and I have formed mental images of the landmarks to come ahead. I see something and remember, "oh yeah now I'm close to this town or that highway junction where I need to turn to get to there." The landscape is still largely new and fascinating, but the excitement of discovery is somewhat diminished when seeing it for the second time.
In Eureka, Nevada while checking the engine's oil level, I look under the car to discover an unpleasant situation. The right rear brake drum has a drip hanging from the bottom of it, being fed by a trail of gear lube coming out of the weep hole in the backing plate. The axle seal is leaking again. I have been trying to solve this problem for about a month now and thought I had it licked before leaving on the trip. Last year I was replacing the bearing on that axle, and in the process dropped the spacer that serves as the sealing surface for the seal in the bearing retainer plate. Naturally the spacer hit the ground in such a way to put a ding in the face right where the seal rides. I filed the high spot of the ding off, put it back together and forgot about it.
That is until in the process of installing new tires for this trip, I found the entire inside of the wheel was all grimy with a mixture of gear lube and a years worth of dirt. I pulled it back apart, filed every ding completely out of the face of the spacer, sanded and polished it, and reassembled the pieces with new seals, fairly confident that this time it would hold. And hold it seemed to do for the week leading up to this trip. But now here it is again, leaking. I know that in the process of removing the dings by filing, I created low spots in what was originally a perfectly round machined part. It was a gamble that was looking to pay off, but I ordered a new spacer just in case, which ironically arrived at the house in the afternoon of the day I left.
I am sure the now misshapen spacer is the culprit but out here, there is nothing I can do about it, save for picking up a bottle of gear lube and continuing to top off the transaxle. I wipe off what I can of the dripping gear lube so I can look under there again later on and try to gauge how fast it is losing fluid. I continue on, a little nervous not knowing how severe the leak really is or how much worse it may get, though it doesn't seem too serious for now.
Back on the road, I pass a green split window VW bus parked the at the top of Pancake Summit, and we wave to each other as I pass in the opposite direction. I look in the rearview mirror and the bus's hood is down so it looks like they are probably just resting or taking in the view from the top, and not suffering a mechanical breakdown. Normally I would have stopped to exchange stories or at least chat for a bit, but I'm in a slightly sour mood after finding the leaky axle with 2000 miles between me and home, so I am not up for socializing now.
I drive by a Napa in Ely, Nevada and am surprised to see an illuminated OPEN sign at 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon. I whip a U-turn and park, hoping that they really are open and someone didn't just forget to turn off the sign when leaving. Turns out they are open for another hour yet, and I am relieved to buy a quart of 80-90 gear lube for topping off the transaxle tomorrow morning. Before leaving the parking lot, I check the wheel, brake drum, and backing plate to find only a light oily film and a small seep from the weep hole. Excellent! It's not too bad. Man, what a relief! Spirits restored, I make my way out of Ely to cross the no-mans-land that stands between me and my stopping point in Delta, Utah.
Out in the desert, thick bands of clouds stretch across the sky, and the angle of the light from the early evening sun creates golden highlights along the edges of their dark masses in a marvelous overhead display. The temperature is perfect, just warm enough to drive with the side windows down and the vent and rear pop-out windows open for a breezy but not blustery ride. The ever present west wind, finally to my advantage for a change, has aided in propelling the pokey VW up and over the passes today with much improved performance. I stop to take some pictures of the amazing sky as the sun is starting to slip behind the distant hills. As the sun sets and the sky darkens, I put the camera away and finish off the last straight and level miles to Delta.
Nowhere, Nevada.
Overlooking Austin, Nevada from US-50
Evening in the Utah desert.
VW at sunset, Utah. I think this is my new favorite picture of the car.
West of Delta, Utah.
Last light in Utah.
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